


My Past Shall Haunt Me

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Off-screen Relationship(s), Origin Story, Self-Hatred, Strained Friendships, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo did not know what to believe, but certainly not this. His brother alive? A war brewing on the horizon? It was all nonsense, but that did not change the fact that Genji had appeared before him on the 10th anniversary of his passing. And It would seem that the world was more unstable than Hanzo originally thought, but he was still unsure of whether he had the right to have a hand in shaping its future.</p><p>Or, the story of how Hanzo ultimately joined Overwatch, and how he dealt with the discovery of his not so dead brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The feather fell in the breeze.

It landed on the polished wood floor just before the wind caught it again, dropping it by Hanzo’s feet. Without thinking, Hanzo stepped on the quill as he stared at it. He brought his sharp gaze up to the nearby rooftop, only to find the empty space where his long lost brother once stood. Hanzo knew that by now, Genji had disappeared without a trace; even a master tracker like himself wouldn’t be able to hunt him down.

Hanzo loosened his hold on the bow’s string as he slowly grasped the arrow he was just about to fire. He rolled the shaft against two almost shaking fingers, watching the arrowhead twirl in the dying light. The metallic arrow felt cold and heavy in his hand, and he put it back in his quiver with a short, uncomfortable sigh. Hanzo then bent down and took the feather into a delicate hold. The soft breeze grew in strength, and it threatened to rip it out of Hanzo’s hands before he could pluck it into a pocket for safe keeping.

Hanzo’s eyes returned to the place where Genji once stood for a second time. Again, there was only empty space.

Suddenly and without warning, the dam breaks. Hanzo’s calm composure was swept away and he was left a trembling mess. A rush of emotions surge forward, overpowering him and Hanzo knew he was on the verge of tears that were held back by a quivering face. Whether the developing tears were from sorrow, fear, fury, or revulsion, he did not know.

Hanzo dropped his bow and it clattered to the ground. His fingers had stopped working, but Hanzo did not notice. All of his attention was focused on the battle that was raging inside of him. All the conflicting emotions he had felt for the past ten years, the ones he had either ignored or repressed, came back with a vengeance.

It felt like the breath had been knocked out of him.

For the past ten years, Genji had been dead. Not just dead, he had been killed; Hanzo had _murdered_ his younger brother by his own hand. Hanzo spent the past decade haunted by his younger brother’s ghost, weighed down by the guilt that he either justified against or plainly ignored. For the past several years he denied to feel such guilt. Hanzo had performed a duty, a task that had been given to him by his elders. A task that had been a huge personal sacrifice, yes, but it was something that had to be done for the greater good of the Shimada Clan.

A task that had ultimately led to Hanzo rejecting Father’s legacy and leaving the Clan altogether.

And now Hanzo was just confronted by Genji, who was inexplicably still alive, and now more machine than man. Hanzo did not know what terrified him most, that he had failed to kill his brother or that his brother was now no longer completely human.

A few seconds passed, and Hanzo forced himself to regain control of his thoughts and emotions. He took several deep, steady breaths as his body stopped shaking from the almost explosive panic attack. Within a minute, Hanzo’s face returned to its usual stoic expression.

No. That _thing_ was not his brother. Genji was dead; whatever Genji had become, it was not the same person Hanzo knew ten years ago. It couldn’t possibly be the same person.

Without betraying his sense of pride, Hanzo knelt back down and picked up his bow. He headed back inside the temple and knelt down beside the still burning incense. Hanzo made the long journey back to his childhood home for one reason: to mourn the loss of his brother. And he would not deny Genji the respect he deserved for his sacrifice.

Hanzo knelt down into a comfortable position and then allowed for the outside world to disappear as he fell into meditation. He did not notice how much time had passed.

The rain began to fall shortly after his return inside the temple. However, it was the sound of the droplets hitting the earth around the temple in a steady and growing thrum that finally brought Hanzo out of deep thought. He opened his eyes, breaking his meditation, and he allowed himself to take a deep breath. He finally stirred from his spot, breaking the momentary peace he had created within himself.

The smell of incense, which had been wafting in the air since before Genji revealed his presence, was now being carried away with the rising winds. A storm was coming.

With a slight turn of his head, Hanzo could see the storm clouds that were brewing over the far horizon, replacing the last few rays of sunlight from the dying day. This steady rainfall was only the precursor for a much larger storm heading its way to Hanamura. It would not be safe for him to stay in Shimada Castle while the storm front passes through; while Hanzo was more than capable of defending himself, he preferred to remain unnoticed by those who now called this place their own. Hanzo knew the guards he killed would soon be replaced by the next shift despite the changing weather. They would see the bodies of their fallen comrades and call for help.

No, Hanzo wanted to put as much distance between himself and his childhood home.

Hanzo quickly decided that now was the best time to leave. He picked up his bow and put it around his shoulder. With great haste he picked up what small mementos he had brought with him to honor his brother’s death and put them in the small bag he carried with him. Before he could leave, Hanzo couldn’t help but take one last look above him at the artwork of the twisting, dancing Dragons. They seemed to stare at him, judging his actions, both past and present. He felt a deep pain in the bottom of his gut.

And then he was on his way, climbing over the wall of Shimada Castle and out into the public yet deserted streets of the big city.

The rain soaked into his clothes, making it stick to his body like a second skin. The few strands of hair he wasn’t able to tie back fell into his face, dripping cold water into his stern eyes. Yet Hanzo kept moving, shivering in the cold autumn air. Hanzo tried to take as many back alleys as he could, hoping that he would avoid detection from anyone who was still loyal to the remaining members of his family, disbanded or not.

Soon he left the wealthy business section of his home city only to find himself on the edge of the suburban slums, where he had taken residence for the past couple days. Hanzo remembered where he had been squatting, memorizing every detail about the path to the abandoned apartment building that was to be condemned and destroyed within the next month. Hanzo easily found the correct alley, where he searched for the house with the rickety rain gutter that was still sturdy enough to take his weight.

He traveled to the roof, finding enough hold to climb his way up there despite how difficult the rain had made his path. Hanzo couldn’t help but stop and stare at the distant neon signs of his old neighborhood. He turned his back against the light. Ahead of him was the path to his shelter.

It was easy enough to sneak in through the roof and make his way down to the lower levels of the building. He had busted the lock to the roof’s door when he first returned to Hanamura a few days ago, and by now no one was going to replace it. As Hanzo entered the shelter of the stairwell, he shook himself dry and wiped the water out of his face.

He was not the only person who had taken up residency in the place. The place was filled with undesirables that the city of Hanamura did not want. They were the people Hanzo had always seen on the sides of the streets in his youth, but never had any true interactions with before he abandoned the Shimada Clan. Now, he counted himself among their numbers, a drifting hermit who used his skill of the bow to pay for his next meal.

Hanzo only needed to look at his fellow squatters to know their stories. They were easy to read, but only because their burdens were so clear-cut compared to his. They were drug addicts, homeless old folk, or young teens who found the decrepit building much more friendlier than their own homes. There was even an Omnic within their scattered numbers, if Hanzo had heard their whispers correctly. The old robot was broken and badly in need of repairs but found no one that was willing to give him a helping hand.

Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Genji, or what had become of Genji, and Hanzo’s mind instantly soured. His stomach twisted and his heart felt like it stopped beating for several seconds. Hanzo frowned angrily at himself before quickening his pace and finding the abandoned apartment he had claimed as his own for the temporary visit.

There was not much there waiting for him when he arrived. Hanzo preferred to travel light, and that usually meant he only owned what he could carry on his back. All he had brought with him to his home city was a bedroll, his bow, small mementos of a life he could never return to, and enough money to feed him before he returned on his journey. It was a far cry from the world he had known ten years ago, but it did not matter to Hanzo.

The first thing Hanzo did was light a couple candles. When there was enough light to see throughout the small room, he unpacked his satchel, hoping the air out the small items inside before they were completely ruined from the rain. Hanzo set them on the ground. Once they were out, Hanzo started to undress for the night. He took off his weapons, setting them on the decrepit kitchen counters where they would be within reach if he’d have to use them in the middle of the night. He undid his shirt and then set it on the ground, stretching the fabric out so it would dry while he slept.

As he removed his belt, something small fell to the ground.

Hanzo paused, staring at the offending object for quite a while. He bent down and picked it up, feeling it with the calloused pads of his fingers. It was a small piece of paper, rolled up and folded in half. His curiosity got the better of him, and Hanzo unrolled the paper.

He almost dropped it the second he recognized the messy handwriting.

_Brother,_

_If you find this then my plan has worked, or you have taken this after slaying me in battle. Whichever has happened, please know that you are forgiven. But I did not reveal myself after all these years just to put my mind at rest. The world is in great danger, and you are needed. War is on the horizon, and you must choose a side._

_Help us save the world. Call this number only if you are willing to help._

The number was written in the bottom corner of the paper; some of the ink had begun to run, but it was still legible even in the faint candle light. Hanzo read the number twice before he tossed the note aside in anger and defiance. Whatever and whoever wanted his help would not get it. Hanzo had been pressured to act for “the greater good” before, and it had been the worst mistake of his entire life. He would not fall for it again.

Hanzo forced himself to forget about the note, knowing that if he allowed his mind to wander, it would grow curious. He did not want that. The only thing he wanted was to finish undressing and then dry himself off before he retired for the night. However, even as he did so, Hanzo caught himself eyeing the paper lying in the room’s far corner among the dust and debris of the rotting apartment.

It would have been best to burn it, just to be free from its presence.

Now that his clothes were hung up to dry in the stale air, Hanzo began to unroll his bedroll. He flattened it out to the best of his ability before he blew out his candles. In the dark he situated himself, trying to get somewhat comfortable on the uneven ground. While it was not the worst sleeping arrangement Hanzo had put himself in, he couldn’t help but long for his old room. He was sure being back in Hanamura was not making this easier for him.

The rain continued to fall in sheets, hitting the apartment’s window. The building surrounding him creaked and groaned under the harsh winds, but it held its ground. Hanzo could hear faint footsteps out in the hallway, too uneven and untrained to be an assailant looking for his head. It was just another tenant looking for a soft patch of ground to rest their head on for the night.

Hanzo focused on his breathing technique. Slowly, his body grew tired and heavy. All he could hear at this point was the sound of his steady heart that seemed to be thrumming against his eardrums. But even that passed in time as sleep overtook him.

That night, Hanzo dreamt of the day he killed his brother.

* * *

 

He could not focus on the fight, or on their surroundings. Hanzo could only look at the face of his younger brother. It’s once lively and trusting expression was now twisted in anguish and fear, but still defiant even as he blinked away heavy tears. There was the sound of metal scraping against metal as their swords made contact. Genji grimaced as he let out a fierce cry, pushing Hanzo away before he jumped safely out of reach.

The temple was ablaze around them, an inferno that showed no signs of stopping its volatile path of destruction. Somehow when the fight had started, Hanzo had managed to knock over the oil lantern he had brought with him. And instead of tending to the ravenous flames, both brothers had chosen to ignore it. Now Hanzo could practically feel the hairs on his arms being burned off from the heat alone. But he continued to ignore the flames as he struck at his younger brother again.

They had not been fighting for very long but already Hanzo could see Genji tiring, messing up his footwork. All the time he had spent playing video games or in the company of fine woman and not training under the elders’ tutelage was showing. His technique was rather sloppy after days of not practicing and his form was falling apart under the stress of his more experienced foe. Genji had grown too accustomed and complacent in his playboy lifestyle, and now he was paying for his mistakes.

Again their swords made contact. The metal screamed until Hanzo found the sound ringing in his ears. Hanzo stared at Genji, their faces not two feet apart from each other. Hanzo’s face would not betray him by showing the conflicting emotions he felt inside. Genji met his stoic expression with one of uncontrolled anger. Genji let out a sharp snarl that seemed to spit fire at Hanzo.

Genji had always been the more emotional brother.

“Brother, listen to me! The Elders are manipulating you, can’t you see?!” Genji screamed in Hanzo’s ears as he held him at bay. “Father would not want this!”

“What Father wanted is not what is best for the Clan!” Hanzo said. He did not say it but the implication was still there: _you_ are not what is best for the Clan, Genji. Hanzo continued, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the fire. “You had your chance of redemption, Genji. Now you must make it in death.”

“You would kill your own brother for the sake of the Clan?!” Genji questioned.

“I will do it because it is my _duty_! It is _my_ burden to bear!”

“Yet _I_ must be the one to pay with their life?!”

Hanzo answered with a furious war cry. This surprised Genji and Hanzo forced the younger man back. Genji stumbled, tripping over the ground.

Hanzo did not think when he saw the opening Genji had foolishly left him. He only acted on instinct. Hanzo swiftly swung his sword, and Genji’s scream of pain echoed over the roaring flames. Genji dropped his sword, but it was not by his own accord. Genji’s right arm from the elbow down hung loosely, connected only by the few fibers of skin Hanzo hadn’t been able to cut through. Already Genji’s sleeve was beginning to bleed a dark red.

The fear and panic grew on Genji’s face as he continued to cry in pain. It made Hanzo’s gut twist in guilt but he forced it down. Genji’s eyes went wide and he stared at his brother. Panic and desperation began to spread through Genji’s face. Perhaps it was at this moment that Genji realized that his brother was not just fooling around and making a show of power.

Hanzo was truly intent on killing him.

Genji was quick to draw his short sword, wielding it with his nondominant hand. Even while he was in shock and excruciating pain, Genji knew well enough to switch to a defensive stance. He grunted in pain but nonetheless proved himself still able to fight, even while one limb hung uselessly at his side.

Hanzo could feel a few tears begin to streak down his cheeks. But he did not falter. Hanzo struck at him again, narrowly missing Genji’s already injured abdomen.

The air around them grew toxic as the black smoke began to build up. Hanzo’s eyes stung and watered, blurring his vision. He coughed violently as he threw himself at Genji. He needed to end this now, or else neither of them would survive this encounter.

It was a dirty tactic, but it worked. Hanzo used Genji’s own unbalanced position and knocked his feet out from under him. As Genji tried his best to stay standing, Hanzo moved to his backside. From there he impaled his sword into Genji’s upper back. There was the sickening sound of a crack of Genji’s spine as he broke it. Hanzo turned his head away to avoid watching Genji drop like a wet towel. He flinched as he heard the impact of his brother hitting the floor.

When Hanzo finally allowed himself to see what had become of his brother, he had managed to convince himself that this had been for the greater good. Genji laid there, his limbs bent in ways that should not have been possible. He could barely move his head and remaining arm, but it seemed that his legs would not cooperate. Hanzo only hoped that Genji did not feel pain.

Genji snapped his head up to look at Hanzo. Hanzo stood above him, his sword still in his hands, which were now beginning to tremble with the weight of what he had just committed. There was no going back on his word now.

Genji made one final plea, his broken voice somewhere between a sob and incoherent gibberish. “I know you are not like this, Hanzo! Brother, please!”

Hanzo closed his eyes; he did not want to remember Genji as the broken form before him. No, it would be best to remember him as he was before Father passed on.

_Do not let him suffer any longer than he needs to,_ Hanzo thought to himself, _let his passing be peaceful and painless. Let these flames be his final resting place._

Hanzo steadied his sword as he ignored Genji’s painfilled wails, and then he stabbed Genji in the heart.

* * *

Hanzo awoke with a shout dying on his lips. A crack of thunder reverberated throughout the rundown apartment which ignited Hanzo’s fight or flight response. Hanzo was breathless; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up as a chill traveled down his spine. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body.

As a flash of lightning illuminated the place, Hanzo was finally brought back to reality. He was in an abandoned apartment, not within the burning temple inside Shimada Castle’s walls. He slowly released his grasp on his bedroll, not even lamenting about the holes he had punctured with his fingernails. Hanzo brought one hand up to his heart in a futile attempt to steady the damned thing. At this rate it felt like his heart would jump right through his chest.

Despite himself, Hanzo’s eyes searched through the darkness for any would be attackers. His instincts told him to make a run for his bow, and his fingers twitched in response. When he found no attackers, he could slowly feel himself begin to calm down.

Hanzo let out a long sigh as he took his face in his hands. He rubbed at his eyes and temples. It had happened again. It had just been a dream. An incredibly vivid dream, but it was still just a dream.

This was not the first time he had dreamt of that awful day, and Hanzo knew that it was highly unlikely that this would be the last. With a groan, Hanzo got up, knowing all too well that he would not be able to sleep for the rest of the night. He paced the area of the apartment, doing his best to wake his limbs and body. To shake away the remaining fragments of that damned nightmare.

As he did so, Hanzo made the consecutive decision to leave Hanamura that day.

Without much more thought put into it, Hanzo started to pack up. It would be quite a while before he would be able to leave, as it was still dark and storming outside, but it would not hurt to be prepared. He knelt on the ground as he packed his belongings back into his satchel, checking to see if everything had dried during his sleep.

Once he was done packing, he dressed himself. And from there he sat in the apartment, waiting for the violent storm to pass. This time, he allowed for his mind to wander without restrictions. It did not surprise Hanzo that his thoughts would return to Genji. Not the Genji Hanzo remembered, but the monstrosity he became.

If that thing had truly been his brother, how had he survived? Hanzo put his sword through his heart. He had watched as the life was drained from his brother’s eyes. There was no arguing that Genji had been dead. Ten years ago, Hanzo knew only one thing before he pledged to the elders that he would murder his brother: he didn’t want Genji to suffer. While they had never seen eye to eye when they were younger, Hanzo was not cruel enough to wish Genji a slow, agonizing death.

It disturbed Hanzo to think that there was a chance he had been sloppy. Hanzo had been emotional despite himself. Did he miss the heart and hit something that was not as vital? But even so, Genji still died. Had he been brought back to life? Who had experimented on his brother’s corpse? Who would have been barbaric enough to bring the dead back to life? None of this made sense to Hanzo.

It was well over an hour before the booming thunder began to grow distant, and then another hour before the rain started to weaken in strength. By the time the storm had disappeared over the mountain range, Hanzo still didn’t know the answers to all his questions.  Instead, he was left with more disturbing ones that did not settle his mind.

But it did not matter in the end. Hanzo had already decided he would play no part in Genji’s war. 

The sun was rising and the sounds of the city began to leak in through the apartment’s shoddy window. Hanzo’s stomach grumbled, reminding him that he would need to find something to eat before he left the city. He needed to leave now when half of the city was still asleep.

Hanzo grabbed his bow without much thought and readied himself for the journey ahead of him. He still had no plan for where he ought to head; he usually followed the road, letting it take him where it pleased. Perhaps Hanzo would revisit Northern Africa? He had always managed to find some job or other in that part of the world, and it would be nice to spend the oncoming winter season there. Yes, that was as good a plan as ever.

However, he did not set more than one foot outside the doorway before something stopped him in place.

Hanzo felt something call to him. He turned back towards the apartment, where his gaze fell on Genji’s note which he had haphazardly thrown away last night. There was something about its presence that kept him rooted in spot. He did not want it, Hanzo tried to convince himself. He did not want what the note promised to him if he…

 Yet…

But what if…?

Hanzo couldn’t help but grimace as he caved into his selfish desires. Hanzo hurried back into the room and picked up the note. He gave it one last look over, memorizing the phone number written on it before he pocketed it safely in his satchel. His resolve from last night was crumbling, but he was still not sure what he wanted to believe.

There were many great tales throughout history about two sides waging great battles against each other. Hanzo would be foolish to ignore that most usually ended in tragedy. And Hanzo has had more than enough tragedy in his life.

Hanzo left the building the same way he had entered it, still unsure of what the future entailed for him.

Two days passed. On the third day, Hanzo bought a disposable cell phone.


	2. Chapter 2

He was no longer in Hanamura; Hanzo had left the bustling city days ago. Now Hanzo was in an old port town by the south eastern shore of Japan, where most of the rural population made their living in the fishing trade. He was near the town docks, just close enough to catch the day old fish smell as the breeze carried it inland. Hanzo was perched above on the rooftops, unseen by the townsfolk below and where he could gaze at the glistening, rough ocean.

He held the disposable phone in his hands, where it anchored him in spot. After several days, Hanzo was still unable to dial the phone number Genji had written for him. He was torn; if there truly was an impending war on the horizon, Hanzo felt honor bound to help in a bid to make amends for his past mistakes. But on the other hand, he had never been loyal to any cause for years. Not since the Clan’s elders had tricked him into murdering the last person he cared about.

Hanzo didn’t want to lose anything that important ever again. But Hanzo remembered he had nothing else to lose at this point.

With that in mind, Hanzo finally forced himself to dial the number. He kept his eyes on the horizon, squinting as he watched the seagulls dive and bob in the water. He listened to the phone ring only once before someone picked it up, answering in English.

“Unauthorized caller id detected. Alert: this is a restricted number. Be aware that we are monitoring and recording this call for security purposes. State your business.”

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been Genji who answered his call. Hanzo didn’t know if that relieved him or made him feel even more anxious. Instead it was a woman with a synthetic voice. Hanzo could easily recognize that it belonged to an artificial intelligence. However Hanzo couldn’t tell whether it was a software program or an Omnic just by listening over the static filled phone call.

One thing Hanzo could recognize was the hostile tone of the AI. But that was understandable. Right now he was an unknown, uncalculated threat to what sounded like a highly classified and precarious operation. Whoever had the resources to fund an undercover operation such as this could not risk a dangerous unknown like himself. Suddenly Hanzo was regretting his decision to get involved in something this big.

“I was… given this number. I was warned there was a war coming.” Hanzo said, keeping his voice low.

There was a long pause as the Artificial Intelligence considered his answer.

“Who gave you this number?” It finally asked.

It took Hanzo a while to speak, as his brother’s name died in his throat a total of three times. He could not bring himself to speak his name. His lips felt particularly dry, and he knew it was not from the salty breeze that rolled off the ocean. Finally, Hanzo managed to find and hold his voice.

“Genji.”

The response was immediate. “State your name.”

“… Hanzo. Hanzo Shimada.”

 “Hold one moment, connecting you to Soldier 76.”

His phone started ringing again as he was put on hold. The thought to hang up and throw the phone into the sea fluttered across his mind. There was still a chance to back out; he could still disappear and head halfway across the world. Whoever these people were, they wouldn’t be able to track him if he covered up his tracks.

Those thoughts died when this ‘Soldier 76’ finally answered the call. The man’s tone was anything but pleasant.

“You must be pretty god damn stupid to call us up on a common cell phone.” The man said gruffly. “This isn’t a secure call and if it wasn’t for Athena, anyone would be tracking it to find our locations and kill us both. You could have jeopardized our entire operation with your stupidity. Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t hang up right now.”

It had been a long time since Hanzo had ever been scolded like this. He felt like a young child again who had been caught feeding his table scraps to the stray cats that sometimes wandered into Castle Shimada’s walls. He found himself frowning, finding that he particularly detested being treated like an ignorant child. Hanzo grew cross at the man’s tone, but was able to hide most of the edge in his voice.

“I was told of an impending war, one that will put the entire world in danger.” Hanzo said curtly.

“And let me guess, you think that just because you’re willing to help out means that we’ll accept you? I don’t know you; you could be a pizza delivery guy or a god damned super soldier. And neither would convince me to give a damn.” Soldier 76 scoffed as he spoke. “I bet you don’t even know who you’re calling right now. Do you?”

A second passed as Hanzo refused to answer, but eventually he admitted, “I do not.”

“Good. And it’s best for it to stay that way.” His tone was dismissive. He barely paused to growl out a goodbye. “Now don’t call this number again.”

Hanzo kept the phone glued to his ear, dumbstruck by the man’s irritable personality. He could not understand the man’s actions. To refuse one more willing body during a precursor of war? That was madness in any culture. That, or the man was a proud fool who trusted no one but himself. For a brief second, Hanzo was almost glad the man refused to accept his help, for he did not know if he wanted to offer it anymore.

Hanzo swore in his native tongue, feeling his anger begin to bubble up. He ought to just hang up and be on his way. It was foolish to think that he had any chance to play a part of something much bigger than himself. He almost did hang up, but he stopped himself when he noticed he could still hear the small white noise that had been embedded into the entirety of the call.

It dawned on Hanzo that Soldier 76 was still on the phone, silently listening for his response. Had the man wanted to see what Hanzo’s reaction would have been? Was this some form of test?

Through gritted teeth, Hanzo spoke up. “I am still here, Soldier.”

There was a grunt for a response. “Maybe you’re not half as dumb as I thought, kid. Athena didn’t tell me; who gave you this number?”

“Genji.”

“Genji, eh? Well, I’m afraid he wasn’t authorized to make that sort of decision. Sounds like I need to sit him down and have a serious talk with him about how much he just endangered our whole operation. Or I should congratulate him on taking the initiative.” Soldier 76 said. At this point Hanzo had no indication of whether the man was angry or pleasantly surprised. “You must be pretty damn important if Genji hunted you down. Who are you to him?”

“His brother.” Hanzo decided that now was the best time to be curt. No more beating around the bush. If these were Genji’s superiors, then they knew exactly what he had done to his brother. There would be no point in hiding it. “Hanzo Shimada.”

Hanzo heard the other man sigh. There was no telling what the man was thinking.

“Hanzo Shimada. The man that made a pin cushion out of his younger brother.” Soldier 76 said slowly, almost as if he was testing the words in his mouth. Hanzo flinched at his description, and there was another jab of self-hatred that ran through him.

“Yes.” Hanzo said, finding his voice faint and weak. There was a chance that Soldier 76 hadn’t heard him.

Again there was silence. This time it felt deafening to Hanzo as he waited for the man’s verdict.

“Why would your brother seek you out just to invite you to join us?” Most of the irritability was gone from Soldier 76’s voice. In its place was a serious judgmental tone; if Hanzo spoke wrong now, his fate would be decided by this stranger. “You tried to kill him.”

“He believes there’s still hope for me.”

“And do you believe that?”

Hanzo could not find his voice. The silence was enough of an answer for Soldier 76.

“No, you don’t.” Soldier 76 said knowingly. He paused with a tired sigh. “But you are willing to try. If you have any of the stubbornness that Genji’s got, you’re going to try until you run yourself ragged. Or until you kill yourself.”

Hanzo wasn’t able to deny that. Father always said that that was one of the few traits the two brothers shared together. Their stubbornness had been the main cause for why both brothers had butted heads with each other in their youth. They were both too stubborn and too proud for their own good.

Soldier 76 spoke up again, dragging Hanzo out of his thoughts. “I’m going to ask again: do you know who you’re talking too?”

“No.”

“You’re speaking to a representative of Overwatch, Hanzo Shimada. I’m sure you’ve heard about Overwatch at some point or other.”

The mention of Overwatch caused a shiver to travel over Hanzo’s spine. The reaction was unintentional, completely out of his control. Sure, Hanzo had heard about Overwatch. He remembered being taught at a young age that they were a formidable, constantly looming threat. One of the most recurring lessons the Elders taught both him and his brother was that when it came to Overwatch, it was better to avoid detection than to engage in battle.

Somehow the Shimada Clan had been able to avoid detection from them for decades. But that did not change the fact that Overwatch had been a dangerous enemy of the Shimada crime organization.

But the Shimadas were gone now. The only remaining members were Hanzo and Genji. How ironic was it that Genji was among the enemy’s numbers, and now Hanzo was requesting permission to join as well? Hanzo could practically see his Father shaking his head in contempt.

“Yes, I’ve heard of Overwatch.” Hanzo said coldly.

Soldier 76 ignored Hanzo’s change of tone. “Good, then I won’t have to bring you up to speed. Technically we’re operating illegally right now. If we get caught, all of us would be put on trial and incarcerated. You too, just for associating with us. That’s why secrecy is our greatest weapon as of right now.”

Soldier 76 paused. Hanzo heard the ruffling of some papers on the other end of the phone call, and then he heard the other man swear under his breath.

“Alright Hanzo, I’m willing to give you a chance, but only because we need more numbers. If you’re able to work as a team member, you’re in. But if you do a single thing I don’t approve of, you’re out. Do you accept?”

Did he accept? Hanzo still wasn’t completely sure, but he found himself answering all the same. His mouth was moving on its own accord. “Yes.”

“That’s what I like to hear, soldier. Give me your location, I’ll see if I can dispatch a Carrier to your coordinates as soon as possible.”

* * *

Half a day passed by and now Hanzo found himself aboard the state of the art Overwatch Carrier. The plane had arrived just as dusk had started to set in, and the growing darkness had provided the cover Overwatch needed to land undetected in the nearby woods. Hanzo had then walked the short distance to the Carrier, where he first met his supposed colleagues.

There had been three of them waiting for him. Hanzo had at first been wary of the strangers, for all of them were dressed in unusual clothing. When he first arrived on the scene, Hanzo walked among the shadows, watching the strangers from a safe distance. After enough time had passed to satisfy his curiosity, Hanzo allowed for himself to be spotted by them. Immediately the three strangers drew their weapons, just as wary about him as he was about them.

But then they recognized him, and they put their weapons away. Introductions had been given, and Hanzo found himself trying to remember their names. The obvious leader of the small group was Soldier 76, which Hanzo quickly learned was just as unpleasant in person as he was over the phone. Another was Mei, a brilliant scientist from Xi’an China. The last was an American who, it would seem, truly believed he was an old American Cowboy by the name of McCree.

The introductions were cut short after they exchanged names. Soldier 76 was quick to remind them that this wasn’t a secured area. They needed to leave and head back to base.

That had been hours ago, and now Hanzo found himself within the Overwatch Carrier, if anyone could have called it simply that. The plane was a state of the art mobile base, complete with living quarters and other basic necessities that would support its occupants out in the field for weeks. It had been years since Hanzo had stepped foot into something as nice as this.

Hanzo now sat down in the corner of the ship’s living quarters, thumbing through an old book someone had left behind on a past mission. Beside him was one of the Carrier’s exit doors, where he could watch the clouds as they flew past them, illuminated by the large moon.

Soldier 76 remained in the cockpit of the Carrier, where he was chatting with the AI Athena Hanzo had briefly spoken with. The man’s low, growly words were lost over the hum of the ship’s engines, but Hanzo could understand the man’s tone of voice. He was nervous, anxious to get back to their current base of operations.

Mei was sound aslep asleep, resting in one of the strap in chairs on the other side of the Carrier. The safety lock was in place, which prevented the woman from falling out whenever they hit turbulence.

And McCree… McCree was sitting beside Hanzo. The man was crouched over the foot table, cleaning his revolver with the same care a father would have while holding a newborn child. Every so often, the man would let out a grumble or a curse in frustration, but even so Hanzo could tell the man was enjoying himself.

With the sounds of McCree’s grumblings, Soldier 76’s faint voice, and even Mei’s snoring, Hanzo found himself on edge. These were complete strangers to Hanzo, and yet they had let their guards down. Hanzo would never allow anyone to see him this vulnerable; at least not without some form of weaponry he could use to defend himself. Beside his feet, just within his reach, was his bow. If this McCree fellow showed any instance of attacking him, Hanzo would at least be able to smack him away with his bow before retreating to a safe distance.

And so Hanzo pretended to read the book in his hands, but his attention was elsewhere. He kept his breathing slow, and forced his shoulders to relax in an attempt to look calm and off guard. Most of his attention was on watching the cowboy out of the corner of his eyes. The fact that McCree was cleaning his gun made Hanzo even jitterier. Hanzo detested guns.

Eventually McCree finished his work, and he quickly slid the revolver back into his side holster. With a sigh he leaned back and brought his feet onto the table, which knocked over the few miscellaneous knick knacks placed there. Hanzo watched as the man fished around his pocket. Eventually McCree pulled out a small package, which contained several bundled cigars. Hanzo paused in his ‘reading’ to watch as McCree lit the cigar. McCree took a large puff of smoke before catching Hanzo’s gaze.

“Care for a smoke?” The man offered, breaking the silence as he extended the package.

Hanzo shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“Eh that’s fine. More for me, then.”

McCree remained quiet after that, completely content on smoking as he relaxed into the couch cushions. Hanzo’s eyes didn’t return to the book; instead he was taking in every detail about the other man. If this man was to be an ally, Hanzo must know what his strengths and weaknesses were. Just by quickly looking McCree over, Hanzo learned a few things about the man. However he did pause when he read the man’s belt buckle, not knowing what the term BAMF meant.

“Don’t let the eyes wander too much, big boy.” McCree said with a smirk.

Hanzo jumped slightly when he realized he had been caught staring. He looked up and caught McCree’s small wink at him. Hanzo let out a small puff of air, exasperated at the man’s display of immaturity. McCree himself let out a small chuckle before he continued working on the cigar.

“I apologize,” Hanzo finally spoke up, “I did not mean to—”

“No apology needed, Hanzo.” McCree said, interrupting the man as he raised his hand to stop him. He then brought his hand up to his mouth, taking the cigar out between his teeth and then held it by his knee. McCree took one long second to give Hanzo his own look over. He then let out a small hum as he stiffly nodded his head. “So you’re Genji’s older brother?”

Hanzo could feel his face fall back into his stoic mask, and he quickly drew his eyes away. He stared at the pile of books on the table, avoiding McCree’s now completely indecipherable expression. Hanzo knew the man had every right to judge him on his past actions, but that did not change how angry Hanzo suddenly felt at himself. If Overwatch was going to constantly remind him of what he did, Hanzo couldn’t see himself staying with the group for any extended time. Hanzo already harbored enough self-hatred for himself; he didn’t need anyone else dragging him down.

“Say what you must, but be quick about it.” Hanzo sounded irate, even to himself.

“Hey. Take it easy; I’m just trying to find common ground to start a conversation. We still have a couple hours left before we reach our Vancouver base.” McCree let out a tired sigh. “It’s going to be a long journey if we’re just going to continue sitting in silence.”

Hanzo let out an impatient huff of air before bringing the useless book down beside his thigh.

“Very well. Yes, Genji was my brother.”

McCree nodded, seemingly content that now he found some ‘common ground’. He exhaled some of his cigar smoke before he flicked it. The embers fell to the floor by his spurred boots.

“Genji’s a good man, if a bit headstrong. Loyal and always looking to prove himself. I’ve watched him go through hell and back, and he’d still be ready for the next fight. If you’re anything like him Hanzo, we may just win this war.”

Hanzo couldn’t help but perk up at the mention of his brother. “You know Genji? How long?”

“Yeah, I worked with him a while back. Maybe… oh, 8 or 9 years ago? Back before Overwatch was shut—“

“Hey!”

Soldier 76’s angry voice broke the comfortable atmosphere that had settled between Hanzo and McCree. Both men visibly jumped at the loud voice. Even Mei had been aroused from her slumber, as her soft snoring had drifted off. Hanzo had to stop himself from reaching for his bow. Still, his muscles tensed as if he was ready for a fight. As for Mcree, the sudden invasion of the older man’s voice spooked him, and Hanzo watched as the half finished cigar fell out of his mouth as he jumped.

“No smoking in the Carrier, McCree! You know the rules.” Soldier 76 reprimanded.

McCree swore under his breath before he bent down to pick it up off the floor. McCree was quick to snub out the burning end, and then he pocketed the cigar for later use.

“Old geezer doesn’t know when to let sleeping dogs lie.” McCree grumbled in annoyance as he returned to his seat. McCree muttered something else under his breath, but Hanzo couldn’t quite catch it. McCree crossed his arms before he turned back to Hanzo. “God damn; what else am I going to do now for the rest of the trip?”

“Perhaps sleep? Like you said, we still have a few hours before we can land.” Hanzo offered. He himself felt incredibly tired, but he would not allow himself to fall asleep in the presence of strangers. Hanzo was sure that even when they arrive at their destination, he would have trouble sleeping for the next several days.

“I don’t sleep too well when flying. I’ll just hit the hay when we get back to Vancouver.” McCree confessed. “But that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. 76 is going to want to put you through orientation and then run you through some practice drills as soon as we hit land. You’re going to need your sleep.”

“I am perfectly fine. I had caught up on my sleep before you three picked me up.” Hanzo lied.

“Uh huh.” McCree didn’t sound all too convinced, but he let it slide.

Again, they fell into silence. McCree leaned back into the couch; he took a deep breath, which turned into a yawn. Hanzo picked up the book again, where he actually entertained the idea of reading it. As time passed, Mei’s snoring began again and even Soldier 76 finally ended his conversation with Athena. Hanzo was finally growing accustomed to the peaceful silence.

However, it seemed that it made McCree antsy. The comfortable silence ended within 10 minutes, as the man started to fidget in his seat. Hanzo paused as he looked at the man questioningly. He watched as McCree pulled something else out of his pockets, and he was surprised to see it was a deck of old playing cards. McCree turned to look at Hanzo, and then the other man smiled as a friendly gesture.

“Care for a small game?” McCree offered. “It’ll make the time pass by quicker.”

“Are you speaking from experience? I must be honest; I do not know many card games.” Hanzo admitted.

“That’s alright; I’ll teach you a simple one. Just let me shuffle the deck real quick…”

Well, McCree tried his best to teach Hanzo. But for some reason, Hanzo was a particularly slow learner when it came to card games. The other man was patient however, and he never showed how irritating it must have been to have such a horrible pupil. Most of their time had been spent just going over the basics. When they finally approach Vancouver, the sun was already shining, yet they were only 20 minutes into their first card game.

Soldier 76 finally exited the cockpit. Hanzo paused halfway through drawing a new hand when he saw the old man approach them. McCree barely paid attention to Soldier 76, only tipping his hat slightly to show some respect.

“Athena’s going to begin the auto descent at any moment. Now may be the best time to get strapped in.” Soldier 76 stated, the advice sounding more like an order.

McCree only nodded before he started to recollect the deck of cards. He tied them together with a rubber band before shoving them back into his pocket. Together the three men headed towards the back, where they joined a recently woken up Mei.

About ten minutes later, and they finally landed. The Carrier automatically opened its exit doors, hissing as it depressurized. Hanzo undid the lock on the seat’s straps, and he quickly made his way towards the doors to look outside. In all his travels, Hanzo had never quite made it to North America, and he was curious to see the new sights.

They had landed within an old abandoned military base, or so Hanzo assumed. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades, as the surrounding wildlife had been starting to creep in. The runway they had landed on was patchy, with grass and shrubs sprouting through the large gaps between the old pavement. Several of the surrounding buildings had fallen into deep disrepair, with windows broken, a couple doors that were missing, and even a few walls had been begun crumbling.

But the environment surrounding the base? Hanzo found himself at peace. There were large trees that towered above them, blocking out the sunlight save for the few rays that flittered between branches. Far of in the distance, just above the tree line, were snowcapped mountains. The air felt cold and crisp in Hanzo’s lungs, reminding him of winter back in Hanamura.

This land was new and foreign to Hanzo, but he readily greeted it with an open mind.

“Let’s move quickly; there’s someone expecting us.” Soldier 76 said as he brushed by Hanzo.

Hanzo huffed but then went back into the Carrier to fetch his belongings. He swung his bow over his shoulder as he grabbed his satchel. Hanzo checked through the bag, checking to see if anything had been lost during the journey. Once he was satisfied, Hanzo returned to the exit.

Mei and McCree were waiting for him. Hanzo nodded to them as he joined them, and together they walked towards the series of decrepit buildings. They entered through one, and then walked down the building’s black halls. Hanzo looked up at the ceiling, where daylight was slipping in through the cracks and holes of the roof. There was the fluttering of wings and the startled squawks of birds that roosted in the building’s framework. Who knew what other forms of wildlife claimed this place as their own?

They eventually found Soldier 76 waiting for them by an opened elevator shaft. Soldier 76 hit the elevator’s down button with a fist, and Hanzo watched in surprise as the button glowed with power. There was the sound of an archaic elevator rising to their floor. It arrived within seconds, and all four piled in. Before Soldier 76 pressed one of the basement buttons, he turned to look at Hanzo.

“This is your last chance to back out.” The older man offered.

Hanzo shook his head. “I am ready.”

With the press of a button, the group descended deep into the earth. After what felt like several minutes, the elevator finally stopped. The doors swung open, and Hanzo’s breath was taken aback by what he saw. He had been expecting a damp basement that was in the same state of disrepair that had greeted him upstairs. Instead, he was met with spotless white walls, bright fluorescent lights, and the security he expected from a top secret organization. There was a whole other world down below, one completely different from the one he left behind.

Whoever had the funding for a secret underground base like this had quite the agenda. And now Hanzo was a part of it. That thought would have haunted him if he weren't currently in awe at his surroundings.

McCree placed a hand on his shoulder, which brought Hanzo out of his stupor. Hanzo turned to look at the man, who was smiling as if he had just returned home after a long day’s work.

“Welcome to the party, Amigo.”


	3. Chapter 3

“The Doc’s been waiting for you since we landed. Don’t worry; she’ll take good care of you. She always has.”

McCree stopped by the glass door at the end of the winding hallway. Hanzo discreetly peered inside the medical clinic to see a tall blonde woman in a lab coat. She was sitting at a desk, her back to them as she read over the data pad in her hands. Hanzo could hear soft and soothing music playing faintly inside. She hadn’t noticed them yet.

McCree coughed, bringing Hanzo’s attention back to him.

“Once she’s done giving you a checkup, I’ll come get you. From there, Soldier 76 wants to test your skills in the practice arena.” McCree said. “Just on practice dummies; it’s the usual standard stuff for new recruits so don’t stress about pushing yourself.”

“Do I need an escort? Surely you must have more important things to attend to.” Hanzo said. Ever since they entered the base, McCree had been following Hanzo like a second shadow.

“Nope. I’m all set until Winston or Athena decide to send me out in the field again. And that won’t be for at least a couple days.” McCree said. “You’re stuck with me.”

He stopped to pull out the cigar from earlier that morning. Now that Soldier 76 was safely out of sight, he was safe to smoke in peace. He quickly lit the cigar and immediately started to puff on it again. McCree swatted the smoke away before he continued.

“And until then, I should probably help you navigate around the base. It’s a lot larger than you’d expect, and pretty damn easy to get lost.”

Hanzo could feel himself begin to frown slightly. While he was grateful for the companionship McCree was freely giving him, ever since they arrived in the Vancouver Base its felt more like the man was babysitting him. Hanzo never really liked being watched this intently. More truthfully, Hanzo hated being the center of anyone’s attention. If there were eyes on him, that meant that he was vulnerable from an attack.

“I’ll… keep that in mind. Thank you, McCree.” Hanzo said.

“Please, just Jesse will do.” McCree said, tipping his hat slightly. “We’re partners now.”

Hanzo slightly shook his head, and his frown grew larger. First names were reserved for close friends and family. Hanzo did not know McCree well enough to gain that right, and vice versa. The only reason why Hanzo had not corrected everyone about his own was because he was no longer worthy of the Shimada name.

No, he would probably be just Hanzo for the rest of his life.

“I will see you later, McCree.” Hanzo bid farewell, although it was more of a dismissal.

McCree stiffly nodded his head, showing no signs of insult from Hanzo’s refusal. McCree soon left, heading back down the white hall and towards the other end of the Base. This left Hanzo alone, unsure of whether to knock on the glass door to announce his arrival, or to just head inside. McCree had said that the doctor was waiting for him, but he was still hesitant to enter unannounced.

In the end, Hanzo's courteousness won him over. He gave the glass door a slight tapping, which brought the doctor out of her datapad. Her head quickly turned to the door, and she locked eyes with Hanzo. For a brief second, there was confusion in her eyes before realization dawned on her. And then she frowned, her disposition turning cold. It disappeared quickly with a friendly smile, but Hanzo could still see the lingering anger in her knotted brows.

She reached for the small radio resting on her desk and turned off the music. She stood up and walked towards the door. She pressed a button on the side wall and the glass door slid open. She looked up at Hanzo, keeping silent for a few seconds as she memorized the details of his face. Why for, he did not know.

"Are you Hanzo Shimada?" The woman asked, her accent catching Hanzo off guard. He tried to place her nationality, but could not determine whether she was German or Swiss.

Hanzo realized that he hadn’t answered her question yet. "Hanzo, yes."

She nodded her head before finally allowing Hanzo to enter the medical clinic. She walked before him, her heels clicking as she made her way back to her desk. Hanzo followed her, stopping just inside the room, unsure of whether he should sit down or remain standing. He watched her as she picked up a clipboard, a pen was already in her hands.

"I am Dr. Angela Ziegler, head of Overwatch's medical division." She introduced herself, turning back to Hanzo as she leaned against her desk.  She paused as she quickly jotted down a few notes. Eventually she looked back up. "Every new recruit needs to get approval from me before they can head out into the field. Let's start with a simple check up."

She gave him an order to undress, but he did not move before being assured that this was standard procedure. Hanzo reluctantly nodded and he started to set his belongings down on the nearby countertop. With Dr. Ziegler's attentive gaze watching the far wall instead of him, Hanzo started to undress until he was wearing nothing but his undergarments and prosthetics.

He called out her name once he was ready.  Dr. Ziegler remained silent as she walked around him, which made Hanzo feel very self conscious. She paused every so often to take notes.

Dr. Ziegler started to move in closer, where she scrutinized every birthmark, scratch, and scar on Hanzo's body. She only spoke up just to question him about the larger scars. Hanzo did not tell her where they came from, only that they were from several fights he had found himself in over the years. That seemed to sate her curiosity just enough to stop her from pressing more information out of him.

"How long have you had the tattoo?" Dr. Zielger finally asked.

Hanzo raised his left arm, allowing for the doctor to examine it more closely without fear of intruding his personal space. She reached out to touch his arm, but stopped herself before she made contact.

"For almost 12 years." Hanzo said as he looked down at his arm.

"Any touch up jobs?" She continued.

"No."

"None? And it hasn't faded in the slightest? Most curious..."

Hanzo remained silent, allowing for the doctor's mind to come up with its own imaginative explanation. No, the tattoo would not fade; it would remain as pristine as the day it was inked upon his skin until the day he died. It was an old technique that passed through the Shimada Clan for centuries, and it was as much a guarded secret as the Dragons.

Fortunately for Hanzo, Dr. Ziegler's attention shifted from his tattoo and down to the more obvious prosthetic legs. She made a small noise and then angrily wrote down more notes, which made Hanzo slightly nervous. He knew he wasn't the only member of Overwatch with prosthetics; after studying the man all night during the flight, Hanzo made the final conclusion that McCree was without one arm. At first glance Hanzo had assumed it was just a form of metal armor, but during the card game he had learned that that wasn't the case.

But nonetheless Hanzo was nervous. While his prosthetic legs worked great, if not better than his original legs, it showed that he had made a fatal error in the past. He hated dwelling on the loss of his legs; it made him uncomfortable to remember when he had been too complacent in his life. Hanzo almost wished Dr. Ziegler would return to examining his tattoo.

"What happened?" Dr. Ziegler finally asked.

"An assassination attempt, 7 years ago." Hanzo said through gritted teeth.

“Yet you managed to survive, despite the loss of your legs. And the assassin?"

"Dead."

She made a couple clicking sounds with her mouth as she bent down to examine the prosthetics closely. Hanzo remained still despite the growing urge to fidget. Again she was writing down notes, and this time Hanzo was able to peer over her shoulder to see what she had written. Her handwriting was too small and fine to read, but he spotted a hastily drawn yet accurate sketch of his prosthetics.

Beside the sketch were several more notes that she was currently writing down. Dr. Ziegler stopped writing mid-word, and then started a second sketch. It didn’t take long for Hanzo to realize that she was designing what looked like an improved version of his prosthetic legs. Hanzo paled slightly at the implication.

"These are fine quality prosthetics. These would have been very expensive." Dr. Ziegler finally spoke up. She tilted her head up to make eye contact with Hanzo, and for some reason he saw anger in her eyes. “How were you able to afford these?”

It was an accusation. One that Hanzo would ignore for the time being.

"Someone owed me a favor, doctor."

"It would seem so." Dr. Ziegler sighed. She wrote down a few more notes before she set the clip board down on her desk. “With Overwatch’s resources, I may be able to replace them with something more advanced. It would almost be like giving you your old legs back.”

“I would rather keep them, Dr. Ziegler.”

Dr. Ziegler was shaking her head in disapproval, but nonetheless said nothing of it. She then averted her eyes, "You can go ahead and get redressed."

Hanzo did so without further encouragement, feeling the need to cover himself up after such an invasive inspection. Dr. Ziegler looked away as he changed, tapping her pen on the desk as she waited. Once Hanzo was ready, he coughed to get her attention again.

"You seem physically fit, Hanzo. But I still need to go over a few things before I can write you off, and I will need a blood sample." Dr. Ziegler said. "Take a seat, this may take some time."

Hanzo pulled up a chair next to her desk. As soon as he made himself comfortable, Dr. Ziegler launched herself into a torrent of questions he was barely able to answer. Any known allergies, broken bones or fractures, his family history for diseases or genetic problems. Soon it felt like Hanzo was being relentlessly interrogated, and it did not help that Dr. Ziegler's tone grew more impatient the longer this went on. The barely concealed anger returned to her face, and this time she did not try to hide it away with a smile.

When Dr. Ziegler started to ask about his sex life, Hanzo finally snapped.

"No, I haven't been with anyone! Only a fool would allow for someone to grow that close. That was Ge—”

He stopped himself mid sentence, mouth open as he stared at Dr. Ziegler wide eyed. She was also staring at him, taken aback by the fury in his tone of voice. Any trace of anger or resentment in her face was now replaced with shock. The two sat there, completely still in the deafening silence. The only sound was from the base's heating system as it started to boot up.

That was Genji. That had been Genji before...

Before Hanzo…

Hanzo turned away, taking his face into his hands. A few minutes passed with him like that, and Hanzo was grateful that the doctor was allowing for him to recollect himself. When he finally raised his head, he glanced at Dr. Ziegler. Her face was slightly red, but it was not from anger. She quietly sniffled and brought a finger to her eye, where she wiped away a forming tear.

It had not been his attention to hurt her. But that did not change the fact that Hanzo did. But what's one more mistake made in the hundreds he already committed? What's one more person hurt by his hand?

Hanzo’s voice was rough as he spoke. "I apologize, Dr. Ziegler. That was rude of me."

A second passed as Dr. Ziegler found her own voice.

"You have your brother's temper." She commented, her voice full of sadness. Yet she was smiling, as if she was trying to cheer herself up.

Again Hanzo was scowling despite himself. "My brother is dead. The Genji I knew is dead."

"Not quite." She was shaking her head in disagreement. "That’s enough questions for today; let's continue on to the blood work."

Dr. Ziegler stood up and made her way to the back room. She returned a few minutes later with a package holding all the supplies she needed to take Hanzo's blood. Hanzo silently rolled up his sleeve, and then braced himself for the needle.

He couldn’t help but flinch slightly as the needle penetrated his skin. A dull pain formed in the pit of his elbow where the needle sat, and Hanzo refused to look at it. He instead brought his gaze up to the ceiling, where he watched the med clinic’s fan rotate. The silence returned, and Hanzo was not willing to break it this time. There was safety with silence, and it allowed for Hanzo to recollect his thoughts. Fortunately the doctor was also content to sit in silence with all of her concentration focused on the needle in her hand and Hanzo’s outstretched arm.

Hanzo’s mind unsurprisingly returned to Genji. Within only one short day, Hanzo had already learned so much about what had become of his brother after he almost killed him 10 years ago. He found his mind was eager as a sponge, quickly absorbing the new knowledge with a thirst that couldn’t be satisfied. Hanzo found that he needed to know more.

These people in Overwatch, McCree and even Dr. Ziegler, they knew Genji. They probably knew him better than Hanzo did after these past 10 years. Genji was a complete stranger to him. Hanzo wanted to ask so many questions, but he hesitated to ask. Hanzo was sure that McCree would tell him anything, within reason of course. But McCree was gone, and Hanzo was too impatient to wait for his inevitable return.

And Dr. Ziegler hated him for some reason. Hanzo doubted that she would tell him what he wanted to know.

Nonetheless, Hanzo couldn’t help but test his luck. “How do you know my brother?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she removed one of the blood filled capsules and replaced it with another. They still had another left after this one.

“We’ve known each other for quite some time now.” Dr. Ziegler suddenly answered, catching Hanzo off guard. She turned and caught his eyes, and while she was no longer visibly angry at Hanzo, he could see sadness instead. “We first met back when Overwatch was still publicly operating, 10 years ago.”

10 years? They must have met soon after Hanzo tried to kill Genji. But this raised new questions. How exactly had they met, under what circumstances? She was a doctor, so perhaps…

… Perhaps she was the one that saved Genji’s life. She was most definitely the one that saved Genji’s life. A knot formed in Hanzo’s stomach at the thought. Dr. Ziegler was watching him closely, and she could see Hanzo piece together what he knew and nodded her head, as if knowing exactly what he was thinking. She continued, keeping her gaze on Hanzo.

“You at least deserve the right to know.” Dr. Ziegler confessed. “It was Overwatch that found Genji, Hanzo. We had been monitoring your family, and somehow we caught wind of what had happened between the two of you. Our agents managed to rescue Genji after you were finished with him, and they brought him back to me. I managed to save his life.”

He should have been angry at hearing this, but instead all he felt was a hollow reflection of grief. The Elders had been wrong; Overwatch _had_ been watching the Shimada Clan. They had not been as careful as they had thought. But that was not on the forefront of his mind.

 “How?” Hanzo asked, his voice sounding as desperate as he felt. “How did you do it? I killed him. I… I thought I killed him.”

There was a long pause as Dr. Ziegler tried to find her words, but only managed to open her mouth with a silent answer. Hanzo found himself shaking.

“You did kill Genji.”

Her answer stilled Hanzo. He stared at her, eyes wide and full of dread. Hanzo was terrified at the implication Dr. Ziegler gave him. He had killed Genji, which was horrific enough as it was. But someone brought him back to life. Someone had dragged Genji’s resting soul back into the world of the living and gave him a replacement body. One of cold, unfeeling metal instead of living flesh.

Dr. Ziegler’s words from earlier rang in Hanzo’s ears. _“With Overwatch’s resources, I may be able to replace them with something more advanced. It would almost be like giving you your old legs back.”_

It had been Dr. Ziegler.

He was suddenly furious, but of all the things he could have said to her, could have _accused_ her, Hanzo only managed to utter, “How?”

She finally averted her gaze, breaking their eye contact. Yet when she spoke, she spoke with great conviction and authority. “I am a _very_ good doctor.”

That answer was not good enough for Hanzo.

“I stabbed my brother in the heart.” Hanzo stated bluntly through a scowl.

“Yes you did, which made it nearly impossible to revive him. But like I said, I am a very good doctor!” Dr. Ziegler snapped at him.

With a sharp pull, Dr. Ziegler pulled out the needle. Hanzo looked down to see that through their argument the last two bottles had been filled without his notice. Dr. Ziegler vehemently dabbed at Hanzo’s elbow with a cotton ball before she taped it down over the small puncture wound. Hanzo ignored the woman as he decidedly tested his arm. It would be sore for at least a day, but he would still be able to wield his bow if need be.

Dr. Ziegler stood up, the capsules of blood in her hands. She returned to her desk, setting the capsules down as she sat in her chair. She pulled up her data pad, plainly ignoring Hanzo’s fuming gaze. She herself was still angry at him; now he understood why she had been so callous with him at least. Dr. Ziegler hated him for what he did to Genji.

At least the feeling was mutual.

The woman tapped on the data pad with perhaps a bit too much force, and then she brought the device close to her face. Within a few seconds, Hanzo heard McCree’s voice.

“Yes ma’am?” McCree asked.

“We’re all done here, Jesse.” Dr. Ziegler spoke into her data pad. “I’ll have to run his blood samples through my machines, but from what I can tell Hanzo Shimada is 100% healthy and able to perform his expected duties.”

“I’ll be right down to pick him up.” McCree said.

“See you in a minute, Jesse.” She said as she closed the call.

Dr. Ziegler didn’t turn her attention back to Hanzo. Instead she kept her eyes on the data pad and her clipboard. She was busy transferring her notes, and that left Hanzo alone as he waited for his escort to arrive. Hanzo let out a distressed sigh as he finally stood up and retrieved his bow and quiver.

He stood there, waiting for McCree. Hanzo did not want to be in the presence of this woman any longer. Hanzo knew he was a stubborn man, and it would take him at least couple days to cool down before he would be ready to speak with Dr. Ziegler again. If he ever wanted to speak with her again.

The seconds of waiting turned into agonizingly long minutes. Hanzo was growing impatient. He did not want to remain in this room any longer than need be. It was quickly resembling a cage, and Hanzo wanted his freedom. If that meant he would have to go find McCree on his own, then so be it.

He made barely three steps towards the door when Dr. Ziegler’s voice suddenly called to him.

“Hanzo.”

Hanzo turned to look at her. Dr. Ziegler had her back to him, and she was currently hunched over her desk and staring at the data pad she held in her hands. The only indication that the woman had indeed called out to him was the slight turn of her head, where he could barely see the side of her eye. Hanzo said nothing and impatiently waited to hear what Dr. Ziegler had to say to him.

“Do you regret it?” Dr. Ziegler asked, her head still buried into her data pad.

Her sudden question forced Hanzo to pause, and it removed the scowl on his face. Did he regret what? Killing his brother? If that was truly her question, she was not the first to ask it. And she would not be the last. That question had haunted Hanzo for several years, and for the longest time he had had no answer. It was only recently in the past couple years that Hanzo had taken some time to come to terms that yes, he _did_ regret it.

Her eyes were on him now, and Hanzo watched as a few tears fell freely from her eyes and down her cheeks. She was troubled, extremely saddened, but she did not tear her weary eyes away from his. Despite her emotional state, there was still power in her gaze. She would not yield before him, not for anything.

And then Hanzo came to the painful realization that there must be something more between Dr. Ziegler and Genji than just the friendship he had assumed. He felt like a fool, a proud and inconsiderate fool.

This inspired Hanzo to speak truthfully, his voice almost too faint to hear. “Yes.”

Dr. Ziegler still heard his answer. Her expression softened as she whispered, “Thank you.”

She turned away just then. Within seconds, McCree arrived. McCree gave one look at the doctor before he realized that he shouldn’t say anything in fear of disturbing her. With a wordless command, McCree put a hand on Hanzo’s back and led him outside. Even as the glass door closed behind them, McCree did not dare ask Hanzo what had transpired between them. Even if McCree had, Hanzo would not tell him.

Perhaps in time Dr. Ziegler would forgive Hanzo. Perhaps in time he would forgive her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene ended up being way longer than I originally intended, so the chapter had to be split into two to try to keep each chapter at a similar length. Still, it's a bit on the short side, but adding anything else just seemed excessive to me. 
> 
> Also yes, this chapter does imply a that there's romantic relationship between Genji and Mercy. I realize this is not everyone's go to ship for both characters, so that's why it will only ever be mentioned and never explored in detail. If I ever do want to go into detail with Gency, i'll write a separate fic for just that.


End file.
